


Bubble Bath Heaven

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Bubble Bath, M/M, One Shot, Sexy Times, Top Sam, Wincest - Freeform, a small pinch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:53:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt given by vamptastica</b>:  A fic about Sam/Dean taking a bubble bath with top Sammy riding Dean, rubber ducky included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bubble Bath Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vamptastica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamptastica/gifts).



> [](http://s1114.photobucket.com/user/virtualpersonal/media/story%20art/bfc50bbd-5818-45ea-a4ab-a976343cb8b2_zpsm1zymiqg.jpg.html)
> 
>  
> 
> (base pic from belami online  
> texture by frostbo)

Although he still thought about that steam shower he took in the house on the cursed land with the bugs, Dean had to admit, a big whirlpool jet bubble bath was one of his secret little pleasures. Just laying in a great big bathtub that was actually _comfortably_ big enough to lay in, getting his shoulders and back and other interesting places massaged by the powerful water jets--hell, who could complain about that? Then adding a little bit of vanilla and lavender scented bubble bath--ahhh. Yeah. Positively perfect.

He shed his clothes and stepped into the almost too hot water, sinking down into it, bubbles snapping, crackling and popping around him.

Dammit, he’d forgotten to turn on the radio. He scowled, wondering just how much shit his brother was going to give him if he asked Sammy to bring him his phone so he could stream some music. Probably a lot.

But it was just too damned nice to get out.

“Sam! Bring me my phone, would ya?”

Sam used his elbow to nudge the partially open door and entered the bathroom that seemed to belong more in a hotel rather than the cheap motel they were staying in. He stood for a long moment, his eyes roving hotly over his brother, from his wet spiky hair, to his questioning eyes, to the glistening arm sticking out of all of those bubbles, to the knee peeking out of a mound of foam. 

“Your phone,” Sam lifted it up. “And this,” he said as he lifted the rubber ducky in his other hand. “I know we said we’re not doing this all the time, but we haven’t done _it_ in a while.” 

Dean’s gaze slid from the phone, to the rubber ducky, and back to the phone. He licked his lips, then let his gaze slowly creep down his brother’s muscular frame. 

Letting his head fall back against the tub he looked almost challengingly at his brother. “Two words--My music. Agreed?” 

“It’s always your music, Dean.” Sam cricked his neck to the side in a semblance of a nod and slapped the phone into Dean’s waiting hand. His nostrils flared a little, his heart tumbling at the knowledge he was about to get what he needed. Had needed, at least three motels back. This agreement, to hold their feelings back, and to stick to separate beds most of the time made less sense to him when he was in this mood, deprived and needing Dean. 

He dropped the duck into the tub. It splashed the water, then bobbed up and down next to Dean. Sam straightened and quickly peeled his shirt off, taking a deep breath. Steam clung to his skin. His eyes locked with Dean’s as he started to undo his zipper. “Don’t look away.” 

“Don’t undress so fast,” Dean retorted. “Cause it’s not sexy to watch you just rip off your clothes. You know, unless you really rip ‘em off. Mmm, that might be nice,” he said, his gaze sliding away toward the ceiling.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was low, but steely. He waited until Dean was looking at him again, a thrill going through him at Dean’s capitulation, even if he knew it might not last long. He let his hand linger over the button of his jeans, his thumb flicking it up and down. It was enough, more than enough, that he had Dean’s attention. Just watching his brother watch him was getting Sam hard inside his pants.

Tilting his head back, Dean let his eyelids droop, watching Sam from beneath his lashes. He didn’t glance at his phone, but thumbed in the code, then with three more taps had his music playing. Not too loud, not too soft. Just perfect for watching Sam. After setting the phone aside, he pulled his hand under the water, under the bubbles, but the slow flex of his muscles made it pretty clear what he was doing. 

The mound of foamy bubbles gathered over Dean’s arm shifted rhythmically with the water just under them. Sam’s skin tightened, a hot flush crawling up his bare chest, neck and face. This was all it took to get him so hard he ached. All it took. Sliding his hand down, he squeezed himself and ran his hand down a little further, following the hard line of his cock straining against his jeans. “We’re going to make a mess,” he said, feeling in his gut that they were going to go at it hard, with water splashing out of the tub.

“Don’t you want me making a mess, Sammy?” Dean asked silkily, watching Sam’s large hand grope and squeeze and knead. His breath hissed. “Maybe you shouldn’t be quite so slow getting undressed.” He grabbed the ducky and put it on the edge of the tub, turning it so it faced Sam. “The duck is getting impatient I think.” He gave it a little squeeze and it quacked in complaint.

“Yeah well the duck should have thought about that before I was told to go slow.” Sam gave Dean a look and squeezed himself again at a leisurely pace, even though he really wanted to be in that bathtub, his limbs tangled with Dean’s, kissing his brother senseless.

He finally flicked the button open, then grabbed his waistband with one hand and unzipped with the other. He wasn’t wearing briefs. Shorts were too restricting when he was getting close to the end of his tether, to the point where he’d need to demand they do this again. He pulled his jeans down, then stepped out of them. His cock was hard and flushed, and practically up against his stomach. “I’m coming. In. Stop touching yourself.”

“Make me, little brother,” Dean said, his gaze lifting from Sam’s red swollen cock already beginning to leak, up to his brother’s stormy eyes.  
The sight of Dean’s elbow lifting up and out of the water, and moving back inside had Sam’s jaw tightening. Wordlessly, he stepped inside the tub, towering over Dean for a heartbeat. When he dropped down between Dean’s legs, he grasped his brother’s wrist and slowly pulled it up and out of the water, pinning it to the side of the tub. 

As he leaned forward, he made a dent in the mound of bubbles. Dean’s aroused cock nudged and slid against Sam’s stomach. It was so damned hot, so good, Sam almost let himself press down on Dean. “What does the rubber ducky want now, Dean?” he asked, his eyes boring into Dean’s. 

Giving a small grunt, Dean tried to tug his wrist free of Sam’s hand, but seeing the look on Sam’s face, he relented. 

“I think the duck wants to suck on your nipple so hard it leaves a mark for days.” Dean reached up with his free hand, lightly tracing down the center of Sam’s chest with one finger, wiping away some of the bubbles. “Would you like that, Sammy? My lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking, teasing you with my tongue?” 

“Yeah. I’d like that. I’d like that a lot,” Sam answered, looking down and following the trail Dean’s finger left on his chest. He took a deep, heavy breath, his chest expanding. Shifting forward, his nipple hovered over Dean’s mouth, but not close enough to touch. “I have another itch I’d like to scratch first.” Unable to rein in his hunger, he brought his mouth down over Dean’s, moaning as he finally had what he wanted. What he _needed._ Delving his tongue inside his brother’s newly familiar mouth, he meticulously explored every corner. Dean was his. Dean had always been his. It had just taken them a long time to discover the truth. Maybe someday soon they could drop all the fake walls, the lines they set, and just be with each other, damn the rules. 

Bubbles flew around them as Sam leaned in, kissing, practically ravaging Dean’s mouth with passion. Dean couldn’t help closing his eyes, tasting the sweetness that was his brother. He ran his hand slowly along Sam’s ribs, then slid it along Sam’s back. He tried to leverage himself to sit up, to pull Sam closer against him, but his little brother didn’t yield. Relaxing back into the water, he broke the kiss to draw in a deep breath. “You’re one stubborn ass, you know that? Gorgeous, but stubborn.” 

“Gorgeous, huh? So this is what it takes to get you to say something nice?” It was the unvarnished truth. It was only in moments like this, after he’d been kissed or touched or fucked, that Dean said things to Sam that he might say to a date, a lover. “I’ve got plenty more of where that came from. You want more.” He slid his hand over Dean’s cock, loosely closing his fist around it. “Don’t you?” he asked, pushing forward, brushing his nipple over the heat of Dean’s tempting mouth. 

“You’re just full of--” Dean’s voice was cut off as he groaned and arched up into Sam’s intimate touch. “Fuuuuck,” he whispered.

Seeing Sam’s nipple right there, taunting and ready, Dean tightened his arm around Sam’s back. He sucked Sam’s nipple hard, biting, leaving red marks around the aureole as he tongued that tightening nub. 

Sam’s momentary victory at shutting Dean up was short lived because the sharp pain followed by the teasing flicks of Dean’s experienced tongue, robbed him of all thought. Groaning, he slipped his hand behind Dean’s head, cradling it, encouraging him. “Yeah… just yeah…” he breathed, rewarding Dean by squeezing and stroking him. God, he loved how hard Dean was in his hand, and how he pushed up, trying to get more. He dipped his head down and kissed along the side of Dean’s neck, pressing his lips against his brother’s soft, sensitive skin. Letting the urge to take him build inside, it clamored under his skin.

Dean caught Sam’s nipple between his teeth, lightly holding it as he tongued it longer, before finally letting that tortured nub go. He kissed it gently, then slid his mouth over to the as yet untouched one, smiling against Sam’s skin. Sam had released his wrist. He had both hands free now to torture his brother with.

His newly freed hand slid between their bodies, creeping through the water until he curled his fingers and cupped Sam’s balls, pressing them and rolling them against each other. He latched onto to Sam’s other nipple at the same time, wanting to hear his little brother squee like a girl.

The sudden pressure on his balls sent a jolt of red hot heat through Sam. “Nggghhh!” He lurched forward, his chest smothering Dean until Sam reached for the tub’s edge and pushed himself back up. His chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths, closed his eyes, and started to thrust against Dean’s hand, trying to goad him into stroking and pumping him the way he needed. “Dean…” he growled when he felt Dean’s hand slip away. 

“That’s what you get for trying to drown me, bitch,” Dean said, spitting out bubbles. “What’s Sam want from his little ducky? Hmm?” he asked, sliding his middle finger along Sam’s crack, up to the tight puckered flesh hidden there. Running his finger around and around, he pressed his finger in, pulsing fractionally against it. “And what happened to that big hand on my cock?” he asked, trying to scoot back along the tub some so he could keep his head above the water and bubbles more easily.

Sam squeezed his cheeks together, trying to gain some measure of control. Moving his arm across the water, he pushed the thick layer of suds off Dean’s chest and neck, moving them to the side of the tub. Dipping his head, he licked his way up Dean’s chest, then looked down at him. “You know what I want. What I _always_ want.”

Pushing his hand under Dean’s shoulder and behind his head, he brought his weight down over him. His cock slid against Dean’s, and fuck if that didn’t feel good. “Better?” he asked, the tip of his nose touching the side of Dean’s nose. Shifting his hips, he inhaled sharply, his brother’s scent now layered with lavender making him dizzy with need. “Or worse. God it’s worse,” he grumbled, speaking for himself as he was gripped by a powerful urge to take Dean.

Dean groaned, thrusting his hips against the pressure and weight. “Worse, but better,” he agreed, his voice strained. He pulled his head back the fraction that he could and placed his hands on either side of Sam’s face, pushing Sam’s head back enough he could more easily look into his brother’s eyes. “What you want. What you always want. It’s a lie, Sammy.”

Sam cocked his head to the side.

A tender smile spread over Dean’s lips. “I know what you need. What you need to hear and understand and know. I love you. You’re my little brother, I shouldn’t, but I don’t care. I love you. Always have, always will, in all sorts of different ways, at all sorts of different times. But what’s here, now, it’s _real_. I’m proud of you, I’d die for you, and I love you pretty much more than anything else in the world, even my car. Even when you’re a bitch or jerk. So will you kiss me already and shut up this damned chick-flick shit pouring outta me? Cause afterwards, I’m ready for some really fucking hot sex with you.”

It was true. Sam didn’t just want this. Sex. But he’d never dreamed Dean would go there. Admit to anything beyond the physical. It was a miracle they’d even gotten physical. His breath was trapped inside him as he searched Dean’s face. It wasn’t a trick, or a joke, or something said just to provoke him. Dean meant it. Every word.

Sam’s eyes stung, making him blink. “I love you, too, Dean. Always have. Always. You don’t know. You can’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear you say it, even if I knew it could never happen. That you’d--” The look in Dean’s eyes was enough to spur him into action, to give Dean what he wanted. Cupping Dean’s jaw, he fitted their mouths together and kissed him, tangling their tongues together in a dance he’d been waiting for all of his life.

Dean kissed Sam back with everything inside him, knowing that finally the walls they both kept between them were crumbling to dust. There wouldn’t be any more need for lies, ever, about anything. They were becoming what they were always meant to be. Best friends. Lovers. Bonded forever, together. And he was good with that. 

He didn’t need to hear anymore words from Dean. They were on the same wavelength now. Wanting the same thing and ready to own it. Sam’s heart swelled in his chest. He kissed Dean until he was completely out of breath. His teeth grazed Dean’s lower lip as he pulled off, and took a hot breath. Dean shifted under him, brushing against his cock, a sharp reminder of how badly he wanted to be inside his brother. To join them as one.

Sam sat back, running his large hands down the length of Dean’s body, to grip his hips and tug him close. His cock bumped and nudged against Dean’s ass, sliding along his crack. Moving his hips, Sam leaned in. Because of the water, he had to guide his tip to Dean’s hole, brushing against it and biting his lip at the sheer pleasure that shot through him.

Dean squirmed a little under Sam. Even if Sam was on top, even if he wanted it as much as Sam did, he _was_ Sam’s older brother and he simply wasn’t doing his job if he wasn’t annoying him. So he shifted a little this way, and a little that way. “Whats’a matter? Trouble?” He smirked.

Grimacing in frustration, Sam leaned in and more aggressively aligned himself. “Jerk,” he grumbled, bucking his hips, to give Dean a taste of what was to come.

Kicking his feet out of the water and resting them on the edge of the tub on either side of Sam, Dean laughed. “Bitch.” He swept up some of the bubbles and smacked some on each of Sam’s nipples. “You now have boobs. Bubble boobs, but boobs. Don’t make me take over just cause you’re a girl,” he taunted.

Giving a tightlipped, reluctant smile, Sam shook his head. “Not funny.” His understated reaction was intended to discourage Dean. At least Dean had made more room in the tub, and his legs were spread nice and wide now. Sam leaned in and slowly worked his tip inside Dean’s tight hole, sometimes leaning further to brush Dean’s lips with his own.

“C’mon, it was a little funny,” Dean said after the next kiss. “You know, if you can’t have fun while you’re having sex, you’re doing it wrong.” Wrapping his legs around Sam’s waist, he locked his ankles in the small of Sam’s back. “Besides, I thought you liked being all He-man. You were supposed to grab my hips and make me stay put.” 

Reaching up, Dean entwined his fingers in his brother’s long locks and tugged. “Gimme a kiss and get that gigantic dick inside me, Gigantor.”

“I’ll make you stay put,” Sam promised, giving Dean an intense look. He looked over his shoulder at Dean’s ankles locked around his waist, gave a small smile, and brought his mouth down over Dean’s in a fiery kiss. He pushed his tongue into the heat of Dean’s mouth as he pressed his hips forward, groaning at how tight and perfect his brother felt around him. Keeping Dean distracted with the kiss, he kept pushing, until he was buried as deep inside Dean as he could get. “Ngh…” he breathed out, and kissed Dean again, his body tight, his legs shaking a little as he restrained himself.

“Jesus,” Dean said, gasping, letting his head fall back a moment before Sam swallowed him in another kiss. Water sloshed around them as their tongues danced, then warred. Dean gasped in the occasionally needed breaths, only to go back to kissing his brother, his hands moving over Sam’s muscular back and his legs pulsed and tightened around Sam’s waist. Damn his brother was big, but Dean’s inner muscles were slowly relaxing, accepting the invasion a little more with each passing second. 

Closing his fist around Dean’s cock, Sam slowly pumped his hand up and down, running his thumb over Dean’s crown. He barely moved his own hips, fighting desperately against the need to do so and keeping himself busy by concentrating on kissing and pleasuring Dean until his brother was ready.

Groans spilled out of Dean, interspersed with curses and compliments that were barely comprehensible. His hips hardly moved but he tried to thrust into Sam’s hand, sometimes thwacking his head against the tub. “Yer killin’ me, unngh, in all the right, perfect, fucking fantabulous, fuck, unnngh.”

He finally grabbed Sam’s wrist, stilling it. “Fuck me,” he demanded, his green eyes flashing, “before you fucking kill me with the waiting.”

The demand broke Sam’s white knuckled grip on his control. Giving a nod, he moved both hands to Dean’s hips, lifting him up as he thrust his hips, pushing impossibly deeper inside. Dean’s fingers bit into Sam, causing him to wait a split second, and then he was pulling part way out and sinking back inside Dean. God, his brother was so tight around him, so perfect, like they were made for each other. And Sam would prove it to him, would give him exactly what he wanted and needed. He started to fuck him, hard right from the start, lifting him up and allowing him to sink back inside the tub, the water splashing around them and sloshing over the sides of the tub. Sam was barely aware of his surroundings. His brother was his focus: the way he felt around him, the way his heels and fingers dug into him to make him move, the muffled sounds Dean made against his mouth.

Dean worked Sam as hard as Sam worked him, squeezing and clenching at all the right times. But when Sam suddenly changed his rhythm and every single thrust pounding perfectly against his prostate, Dean lost all pretense at holding it together. “God… right there… yes… perfect, Sammy! Fuckfuck-fuck-fuck!” Dean gasped, his pupils huge with lust and adrenalin. “Now, Sam, now!” Dean begged, feeling the whirlwind of electricity race along his every nerve and his balls begin to tighten.

Sam cupped the back of Dean’s head, curling his fingers around Dean’s hair, then tugging it back. His gaze glanced against Dean’s, and he kissed him again, thrusting his hips so hard that if he hadn’t been holding onto Dean, his brother would have slid up the tub. Every muscle in his body, his stomach, his loins tightened. “Dean!” He groaned, his fingers biting into Dean’s hip as he came with a violence he never expected.

Feeling the way Sam shuddered, calling his name, was all it took, pushing Dean fully over the edge. He fairly exploded, feeling the warmth inside him, feeling the spread of the warmth between them and he held onto his brother for all it was worth. He clenched repeatedly, milking his brother dry. “That’s it, little brother. I gotcha. I gotcha. All the way. All the fucking way,” Dean murmured, drawing in deep breaths hugging his brother tightly. “Love you Sammy,” he whispered as he brushed a kiss over Sam’s ear.

Dean’s voice, his words reverberated in Sam’s mind, and wrapped around him like a warm blanket. “Love you so much, Dean.”

* * *

“Stop. What are you doing here, Winchester?” The angel chased Dean down the hall as the hunter broke down doors to look inside. “Hey, I’m talking to you.” He looked like he had a pole stuck up his ass, no surprise there.

“Cool your jets, Clarence.” Dean held up a gold coin with Enochian writing on it. “One free pass. Me to get in and out, and I get to take one soul with me, courtesy of the Valkyrie, who are waiting to take us back down.” His eyes narrowed, almost hoping the angel would push it, cause the Valkyrie mentioned how much they liked to put angels in their places if the angels refused what was the Valkyrie right. That would be popcorn worthy, watching one of those kick-ass ladies going after a rules-are-the-rules angel.

“Let me see that.” The angel tried to take the coin and wasn’t amused when Dean pulled it out of reach before allowing him to have it. “You’re aligning with powers you don’t understand,” he said, dropping the coin into his suit jacket pocket. 

Dean gave a snort. “I know damned well what Valkyrie are. They’re reapers for the gods Odin and Freya. In the old days, they collected souls of warriors, or sometimes, made certain a warrior lived when the warrior should have died. But Heaven flexed its muscles and Heaven’s reapers and the Valkyrie struck a few deals. Now, Heaven gets the lion’s share of warrior souls, but Valkyrie get to pick and choose a few of the dead for Odin and Freya. Since Valkyrie sometimes interfered in battles, making sure a warrior lived, and Heaven’s reapers are usually hardasses about someone’s time being up, one of the deals was that if Heaven took a warrior the Valkyrie wanted to live, the Valkyrie could call in one of the markers owed them and bring that warrior back to life. And that coin is one of those markers. The Valkyrie owed me a favor and this is what I asked for. If I end up in Valhalla waiting for the next apocalypse, color me shocked. Now where the hell is _he_?”

*

The water had started to cool, and it was long past the time to get out of the tub. Sam didn’t want to.

Sitting behind Dean, he had his arms around his brother. He brushed his mouth along Dean’s jaw and ear. “All my life, it feels like a dream. Like I was acting, you know? This,” he leaned in and gave Dean a messy kiss on the lips. “This is real. This us. I wish we’d reali--”

“Sam?” Dean said, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. His gaze slid between Sam sitting in a fancy whirlpool tub holding onto a naked version of himself. He’d heard what Sam had said to the false Dean and all the little pieces took a moment to click. “This? This is your heaven? A crappy motel room and-and-and me? Like… that?”

Sam’s face jerked to the side, the smile that had seemed permanently etched on his face disappearing. He cocked his head to the side, blinking. Trying to process the impossible image at the door, to reconcile it with the very real man in his tub.

_Your heaven._

Sam’s heart constricted. A weight crushed it from all sides even as he fought against the truth. Tried to re-establish what he knew as real and beautiful and made him happy. 

It was too late; the picture around him shifted. The bathroom dissipated into nothing and he was dressed and sitting in a chair, in a bare and empty room. 

Dean was still there. The Dean who’d burst into the bathroom.

Sam looked away, blinking away tears that threatened to come. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his hand gripping the arm of the chair. He didn’t know which was worse. The fact he’d been living a lie, or that Dean had seen the naked truth about him. A truth he’d find ugly. 

“Come to take you back,” Dean said simply, spreading his hands, glad the bathroom was gone and that Sam was fully clothed. “We’re not done, Sam, you know that. I need you. To help finish it, to be beside me until it’s over. So c’mon. Don’t know how patient the Valkyrie are when push comes to shove.”

“We talked about this.” Sam put his elbows on his legs and hung his head, unable to look at Dean. “We’re not doing this anymore. If I’m dead, I’m dead. I’m done.” His voice cracked. 

“No, _you_ talked about it. I never agreed to a damned thing,” Dean snapped. He gripped Sam’s shoulder. “You’re not done, you hear me? I _can’t_ do this alone. Don’t you dare put it all on my shoulders. You’re all that keeps me going, that keeps me from drinking myself to death, from letting the next fucking monster have Dean Winchester for dinner.” He put two fingers under Sam’s chin, forcing Sam to meet his gaze. “I _need_ you, Sam. Please. Let’s finish this, finish this right, then we can both throw in the towel for good. But not yet. Not until we’re done.”

It hurt to look up at Dean and know the past -- he didn’t even know how long he’d been in heaven -- that it was fake. It hurt to wonder what Dean thought of him. But mostly, it hurt to know that he could never leave Dean, knowing that his brother spoke the truth, he’d be a mess without Sam. 

“What you saw, you’ll _never_ bring it up.” Those had to be the hardest words he’d ever had to speak.  
“I saw we gotta start staying in better motels, that’s for damned sure. Cause when we finally come here for all time, we both gotta have better material to work with,” Dean said, giving Sam’s cheek a light slap. “C’mon, little brother, let’s go. I got dirty little secrets, too.” He grabbed Sam’s jacket and gave a light tug and gestured toward the door.

Sam stood and let out a heavy breath. He took one more look around the room that had lost all of its allure, squared his shoulders, and walked out.

* * *

After the Valkyrie had put Sam’s soul back in place, the brothers hit the road. 

Many hours later, the sun was near setting. “Find us at least a three-star hotel near here, one that’s got room service for a change. You’ve hardly eaten,” Dean said and pulled into a parking lot at a one-stop shopping place. “I’ll be right back. Got to pick up a few things.”

Sam gave Dean a questioning look, but reached for his phone and started searching for a hotel. He didn’t feel like talking or engaging. He certainly didn’t feel like eating, but saying so would require him to expend energy. It wasn’t only his heart that felt heavy. Everything had changed, even if nothing had _really_ changed.

Once he found a hotel that would do, he leaned his head against the window. Maybe if he slept, he’d rid himself of the gloom that clung to him like a second skin. Yeah, right, he’d wake up and be Mr. Sunshine. The best he could hope for was that his memories would fade, until the day he died again. 

Dean returned to the car within twenty minutes, pushing a cart. He tossed most of what he bought into the trunk, pushed the cart aside and got into the driver’s seat. He set a bag on the seat between them.

“I got us some wine to celebrate, some pie, milk and fancy danish things for breakfast.” He gave a nod to the bag as he started up the Impala. “That’s for us. Special for us. Go on. Take a look.”

Had Dean said ‘wine?’ Sam wasn’t even sure. He rubbed his eyes. “Later, Dean, I’m t--”

“Bullshit. Look in the bag.” 

“What? Dean, wha--” Shoving his hand inside the bag just to appease Dean and get him off his back, Sam rummaged, moving aside a few items then felt something rubbery. Looking inside, he saw a yellow rubber ducky and a bottle of bubble bath nestled among the other things. His heart clenched.

“And don’t be thinking you’re topping all the time, bitch,” Dean said. “Told you I had my dirty little secrets, too.”

Sam licked his lips and stared at Dean. “You’re not doing this for me? I mean--” he let out a breath, unable to complete his thought.

“Ever since the first time you died,” Dean said, looking over at his brother, “I regretted that I’d never told you, never kissed you. So--” Dean reached over, grabbed Sam’s shirt and pulled him into a mind-numbing kiss. “Hope that hotel has a honeymoon suite. I think we deserve it.”

“All it needs is a tub.” Sam smiled for the first time since his return. His head spun, but he was glad to learn that Dean kissed just like he had in heaven. Maybe better.

“I just have one requirement,” Dean said. “Two words. My--”

“Your music,” Sam simultaneously said, laughing, then laughing even harder at Dean’s expression. “Hang a left, three miles down the highway,” he said, ready to start the rest of his life. Again.

THE END


End file.
